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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27858018">Your Face in My Hands</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluSunflowr/pseuds/BluSunflowr'>BluSunflowr</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with Sad Ending, Blood, Dream is sad, M/M, Memories, but can be read as platonic, dream remembers his time with george :(, george fucking dies rip, george killed in his dumb mushroom house, kinda gay, non-graphic descriptions tho so dont worry, rip tommy, this is rlly short im sorry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:08:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>459</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27858018</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluSunflowr/pseuds/BluSunflowr</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>And now there was only dust and, still a bit warm, blood on his hands and nothing could ever be the same again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>*Basically Tommy kills George and Dream is now sad boo hoo*</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream &amp; GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>93</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Your Face in My Hands</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>please keep in mind that English is not my first language so i apologize if there are any mistakes,,,, feel free to correct me in the comments!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Deep down he knew he was too late. He could feel it in his bones, his hands shaking uncontrollably, breathing fast and uneven. He was too late. He saw the  blonde hair kid running away in a rush, and even if he tried to convince himself that it was just his imagination, it was hard to believe. <br/>Dream stopped right in front of the, still burned down, house. He felt paralyzed, not sure if he should knock or just get inside. With a bit of hesitation, the masked man finally raised his hand and knocked twice. Then again, and again, and after a while, calm knocking turned into desperate banging, screaming, and finally- destroying the wooden door. <br/>George was here. On the broken floor, even paler than normally, his lifeless eyes staring at something far, far away. His hair was messier then usuall, few strands covered in dark blood, just like his cheek and everything around him. Oh how brutal, how merciless must have it been. It made Dream sick. His blood was boiling in anger, but hands still shaking, and eyes burning from tears slowly gathering in the corners. <br/>Slowly, he walked towards his deceased friend, and dropped on his knees, getting them dirty with the dark liquid. He took off his mask, placing it next to the body, green, now fully visible, eyes quickly focused on Georges still face, too scared to look down, at all the cuts and wounds. Now up close he could clearly see every little detail. Long eyelashes, usually hidden behind the glasses, which now were probably lying somewhere near, destroyed or scratched, light freckles, much lighter then his own, bruised lips, old scars from their previous battles. It hurt so bad, he felt overwhelmed with emotions, memories, his own feelings that he never really got to express. He remembered all those little, delicate touches, hugs, falling asleep together when they were too tired to move. He remember how he was cupping Georges face one night, and it felt amazing, as if everything around them had disappeared. Just him and George and his warm, soft skin in Dreams hands, their heartbeats loud and echoing through the room, making the whole moment intimate, even tho they didn't say a word. Because they didn't have to. The silence was comforting.</p>
<p>And now the silence was slowly driving him insane.</p>
<p>And now it was just him, and Georges corpse, his cold, covered in blood and dust skin in Dreams trembling hands, thumbs touching lightly, almost in a comforting way. He felt so empty. He felt devastated. Nothing really mattered anymore, the discs, all those people, the smp itself. His hands were dirty, but they were going to be much, <em>much</em> more dirtier once he finds Tommy. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank u for reading friends!!!! :DD</p></blockquote></div></div>
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